Narrative Medicine Monday: Heartbeats

In honor of World AIDS Day yesterday, today’s Narrative Medicine Monday will be a poem by Melvin Dixon, recently highlighted by poets.org. In “Heartbeats,” Dixon sets a staccato cadence that reveals the evolution of a disease.

At the start of the poem, the narrator is the picture of good health: “Work out. Ten laps….Eat right. Rest well.” Then, he notes the “Hard nodes. Beware.” Dixon achieves an astonishing flow, given each sentence is just two syllables. The reader is forced to stop and consider the weight, the gravity of the situation that deepens, even as the lines remain short.

Dixon is able to convey the medicine with simple, ordinary words: “Reds thin. Whites low.” There is a turn in the poem with the narrator showing resolve: “Get mad. Fight back.” In this moment, he repeats previous lines found during times of health: “Call home. Rest well.”

The focus then shifts to the mechanics of the body, the breath: “Breathe in. Breathe out. / No air. No air.” Time becomes fluid, altered when one is sick, one is dying: “Six months? Three weeks?… Today? Tonight?” I find that I am holding my breath as I finish Dixon’s poem. I immediately look him up, knowing the likely outcome but hoping it will end differently just the same.

Writing Prompt: Try writing a poem about an illness or health challenge from diagnosis to treatment in short fragmented sentences, like Dixon’s “Heartbeats.” Consider diabetes or cancer, dialysis or pregnancy. How does the limitation of short sentences crystallize the situation? Alternatively, think of a moment you’ve shared, either personal or in a healthcare setting, with a patient with HIV or AIDS in the 1980s or 90s. Write this scene as it occurred during that time period, then reimagine the same scene in a modern setting. What changes, what remains the same? Write for 10 minutes.

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Narrative Medicine Monday: Grace and Forgiveness

Oncologist Dr. Catriona McNeil writes about a severe adverse outcome her patient suffers in The Journal of Clinical Oncology’s “Grace and Forgiveness.”

Dr. McNeil treats her patient, Liz, who also happens to work in the same hospital, with a standard chemotherapy for breast cancer. When Liz suffers a rare but known possible complication from her chemotherapy, McNeil finds herself grappling with feelings of guilt, of responsibility. She initially wonders if she made a mistake, if there could be some other cause to her patient’s catastrophic decline: “The chemotherapy order had been checked and rechecked. Had I made a mistake? … She’d had nowhere near a cardio-toxic dose of chemotherapy. No, it couldn’t be that. Until eventually it could no longer be anything else.”

McNeil considers the early clinical studies of the chemotherapy she used, how those oncologists also might have “sat with a distraught family in a tiny room and had the same awful conversation. And yet how bland and unthreatening those little rows of text in the medical journals had seemed. How they’d sat so neatly in a small font near the bottom of the toxicity tables—cardiac death, 0.1% or thereabouts; just a handful of patients. Rare. Unlikely.”

This essay illustrates the limitations of medicine and the bias of human nature. It’s difficult to acknowledge we or our patients could suffer a detrimental complication, especially when it’s statistically rare. McNeil conveys the weight prescribing providers carry when such an event occurs. Although we all know, as patients and physicians, that there are no guarantees in medicine, it is jolting to experience what McNeil calls “the trauma of an adverse patient outcome.” Even though there “had been no malice or intent, no mistake or neglect,” McNeil still harbors guilt as she alone “had signed the chemotherapy order.”

Any treatment advised, from ibuprofen to chemotherapy, can have dire side effects. Learning to grapple with those consequences and continue to move forward with empathy for both self and the patient poses a great challenge to the medical profession.

Writing Prompt: As a patient, think of a time you’ve suffered an adverse outcome from a treatment prescribed by your physician. Even if you were well informed about the risks, benefits and alternatives, how did the experience affect you? Did it alter your opinion of your doctor or of medicine in general? If you’re a medical provider, write about a time you prescribed the best treatment available but your patient had a detrimental outcome. How did that affect you and your practice? Write for 10 minutes.

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Narrative Medicine Monday: Of Mothers and Monkeys

Caitlin Kuehn’s essay “Of Mothers and Monkeys” draws parallels between her research work with macaque monkeys and her mother receiving treatment for breast cancer in the same hospital. As her mother starts chemotherapy, Kuehn “rotate[s] between the animal ward and the human ward.”

Kuehn wrestles with the ethical ambiguity faced in animal research. Thinking of her own mother’s reaction to chemotherapy, she darts off to her work in the research lab, wondering “what animal first shared with my mother that sudden fear of a throat closing in… I realize that I—as a student, with very little power but a whole lot of responsibility—am complicit in a moral choice I have still not taken the time to make. Some days it is hard to remind myself that medical research has a purpose. Some days it is as clear as cancer. Some days I just do not know.”

When Kuehn’s mother needs injections to help boost her immune system after suffering from a serious sepsis infection, though Kuehn “could do a subcutaneous injection in the dark,” she becomes “shatteringly nervous” whenever she has to give her mother injections; the familiar activity takes on a different tone.

Kuehn’s mother begins to rely on her to answer medical questions, but Kuehn’s scientific expertise is limited to “what I have learned in my undergraduate science classes, or here at the lab. All of it applicable only to non-human mammals, or else too theoretical to be of any use for as intimate a need as this. I have no good answers.” I was struck by the fact that often, even for those of us who have extensive medical knowledge and training, we still lack “good answers” to those questions posed by suffering loved ones.

Kuehn has a strong reaction when her mother declares that she’s fighting her cancer for Kuehn and her sister: “She’s pushed her will to persevere off onto my sister and me. It’s too much pressure to be somebody else’s reason.” Have you ever been somebody else’s reason for fighting for survival? Did you have the same reaction as Kuehn to that kind of pressure?

Writing Prompt: At one point Kuehn responds to Domingo’s convulsions in the same comforting way she does when her own mother’s throat begins to swell during her chemotherapy: You’re going to be okay.  When a patient or loved one has been faced with a particularly challenging moment of illness, is there a mantra you’ve repeated to them? To yourself? Did it help? Write about the situation. Alternatively, reflect on Kuehn’s statement that “death is a condition of life.” Write for 10 minutes.

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Narrative Medicine Monday: The Dilemma Doctors Face

The spotlight has recently been on the opioid epidemic ravaging our country. As a primary care physician, I’m acutely aware of this issue and the challenges it poses to individuals, medical providers and the public health system as a whole. NPR’s The Takeaway recently did a program on understanding this crisis and approached it from many angles. Dr. Danielle Ofri wrote short a piece in Glamour magazine that gives a primary care physician’s perspective. In “The Dilemma Doctors Face,” Ofri notes that chronic pain is very real but differs from other chronic disease in that there is no definitive test or measurement for pain, it is subjective. “Chronic pain is real. It can ruin people’s lives. But the anvil of addiction and death can’t be ignored.” Ofri asserts that one challenge is that a system that doesn’t often pay for other ways of treating pain, such as physical therapy, acupuncture and massage, makes it easier for the medical provider to “just write a prescription.” Can you relate?

Writing Prompt: Have you or a loved one struggled with chronic pain? What were the challenges you faced when trying to find appropriate treatment? Have you or a loved one struggled with opioid addiction? What was the first sign that this had become an issue? If you prescribe opioid pain medications, how do you approach counseling patients about the risks and benefits of taking these medications? What are some of the challenges you’ve faced in having this discussion? Write for 10 minutes.

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Narrative Medicine Monday: Lithium and the Absence of Desire

Virginia Chase Sutton’s wrenching poem “Lithium and the Absence of Desire” warns of what may be lost in taking a necessary medication. She deftly describes the world before starting lithium and the reader is entranced along with her, “dozing in light and soaked color.” Despite side effects causing a graying of her world, the author dutifully takes “the medication as prescribed.” Written in second person, the reader is drawn into her longing for what she has lost and together we collectively struggle in vain: “Strain all you will but you have given desire away.”

Writing Prompt: This poem describes a negative, even devastating, side effect of a medication, yet the writer recognizes there was “No choice since you must take the pills.” Have you experienced a minor or life-altering side effect from a medication? Describe life before and after starting the medication. Did you keep taking the medication as prescribed, or did you search for a different treatment? Write for 10 minutes.

 

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